


To Cure Mankind's Stupidity

by reyechan



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (smacks hood) this bad boy can fit so many headcanons in it, Book Verse, Crowley gets nosey, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, God works in Ineffable ways, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Post-Canon, Repressed Memories, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), and is a bit of a prick, many additional angels mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 01:43:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reyechan/pseuds/reyechan
Summary: Aziraphale gets sacked and Heaven sends his affects to the bookshop.Crowley, naturally, starts digging around.





	To Cure Mankind's Stupidity

**Author's Note:**

> Something to note: this is book verse, so Gabriel in this isn't Gabriel from the Prime series. Don't shoot the messenger!
> 
> Also, I wrote this with my designs for Aziraphale and Crowley in mind ( https://eyreyereye.tumblr.com/tagged/good-omens ), so I guess you're free to tag along with that?
> 
> Hope you enjoy me throwing my headcanons at the wall to see what sticks. c:

Aziraphale looked tired, insomuch as a being who never needed rest could look tired anyway. This wasn't to say he looked sleepy -- that was much too cozy a word, and Aziraphale always looked cozy: whether he was settled in his chair with a drink of this-or-that or sending withering glares at whoever so much as breathed on one of his precious books. But no, this wasn't in the angel's usual gamut of expressions, at least as far as Crowley's experience took him.

  
It began with a rainy October morning -- not even two months following the aborted Armageddon -- and a rather sizeable box of affects left by the restored bookshop's entrance. Heaven and Hell had both been mum about the whole affair, but with this gesture it seemed at least Heaven's feelings on the matter were clear: Aziraphale was not to be welcomed back.

  
At first, Crowley's black, shriveled insides had frozen within him. His first instinct was to ask Aziraphale if he'd Fallen, and he hadn't been able to stop himself before doing so. However, the demon was soothed somewhat as his friend replied with a shake of his head.

  
"No, my dear," Aziraphale said, cool grey eyes meeting slitted pupils beyond dark lenses, "I haven't lost my grace, just my job. I have a sneaking suspicion that God is not at all cross with me, but everyone else is."

  
There it was, faith. Even if the spheres were all turned against him, Aziraphale still knew he was in God's good graces. Certainly none of the Fallen could claim that, since not a one could even remember the warmth of God's Love, let alone recall feeling secure in their position in the Great Ineffable Plan. But despite Aziraphale's words and soft knowing smile, Crowley couldn't shake the sight of Aziraphale looking every bit as old as his corporation appeared to be for the first time.

  
The suggestion came out more quiet and unsure than he would have preferred, "Maybe you should take a nap, angel."

  
"What?" his counterpart asked, eyeing Crowley for a brief moment as if he'd grown a second head before easing up, "... Perhaps."

  
Attempting to save a bit of face, a tight, defensive grin dawned on Crowley's visage. "After all, discorporation, stress over the bookshop and losing your job and all that, it'll give you time to -- dunno -- recharge your halo, yeah?"

  
"Crowley, you know as well as I that isn't how that --"

  
The demon waved a dismissive hand. "Get some rest. I'll prop up the closed sign and look after your books."

  
With a somewhat exaggerated roll of his eyes, Aziraphale's hand listed over to brush a few dark curls from Crowley's face, a gesture that had become quickly commonplace after they had both assured themselves their respective head office's weren't paying attention but still never failed to bring a bit of colour to the demon's complexion. "I'll just be a bit, dear boy." he said, and up to the second floor apartment the beleaguered bookseller went.

Though Crowley was true to his word of closing the shop, it took very little time for him to grow bored of the silent bookshop and start to snoop around. Willing the heels of his boots to click quieter than normal against the uncarpeted wood floors, the serpent nosed his way through the shelves, a barely audible hiss on his breath as he let his mind wander through the possibilities of what he could get up to while dear angel was a-napping.

  
It didn't take long for his attention to turn to the crate Heaven had dropped off and his curiosity to pique. Wouldn't it just be his luck if the whole lot was blessed, but sure enough it wasn't. Rifling through, there wasn't too much of deep interest: a pressed fern leaf -- presumably from Eden, pressed between two standalone pieces of old parchment because Aziraphale really would be damned before placing vegetation in a book -- some old recipes written out in looping calligraphy on obviously whatever bits of paper had been convenient at the time, a pair of cracked old spectacles from the early 1800s, and then...

  
A book, hand bound and consisting of paper that looked older than time itself, which was likely considering the lack of any identifiable origin and the strong scent of the ethereal. No doubt Aziraphale had put it together himself. Carefully cracking the tome open, Crowley's eyes scanned the opening sentence.

_'Today, on God's second day of creation, I was born just before teatime, though those that had come just before me had gotten eager and started early without the rest of us.'_

Oh. It was a diary.

  
It shouldn't surprise Crowley at all Aziraphale had kept a diary through creation, so it didn't. Through his un-surprise, however, he just became all the more intrigued. Reading someone's old diary was such a minor evil that his demonic nature barely twinged at the thought, which made him all the more aware his interest was completely self-motivated. Crowley's recollections of Heaven were hazy at best -- they had been much closer with God before the Fall, both angels and future demons, so there was all the more to rip away with the loss of grace.

  
It wasn't a one-to-one replacement, but it was something. Crowley valued little more than knowledge, after all. Sparing a quick glance up the stairs, he continued.

_'Each among us was born with a purpose. Mine, as dictated to me by Gabriel (who was looking run-down at this point from handing out assignments), is to cure mankind's stupidity. I asked him what "mankind" is, and he didn't have an answer for me. There are many others in my sphere with that same purpose, so at least I am not alone in my confusion._

  
_ 'Following up -- Azrael told me "mankind" will be God's future creation, the master work more-or-less. I spent the conversation averting my eyes from his wings. Such a pitch black makes my consciousness swim. I regret feeling unnerved by him, but am anyway._

  
_ 'I spoke with God, which surprised me as there's so much to do. I was told of my great purpose, though I was still confused. The third sphere is full of angels with my job, but I got the distinct feeling this went beyond simply "curing stupidity".'_

Oh someone help him, the Ineffable Plan rears it's ugly head. Crowley was convinced every demon's ability to scheme was a trait passed down directly from the Almighty.

  
"I need a drink..." he muttered. If he was going to read through page after page of ruminating on unspoken truths and whatnot, he'd be doing it with a good port in hand.

Settling back in with a half emptied glass of wine, Crowley began to speed read through the next few pages. There was a great deal of puttering over meaning and whatnot, and Crowley couldn't help but be a little impressed that Aziraphale had already begun overthinking these things right out of the gate. He did, however, spend an awful lot of time under God's metaphorical wing. Quite a little favourite.

_'Today, the earth is to be decorated with all sorts of plantlife. I'm thankful that, since my purpose isn't set into action yet, I was given the opportunity to go help out. Sachluph and Maktiel were directing everyone about and everything was shaping up well. There was a tree I came across, however, that seemed to be the subject of concern. Maktiel caught me staring and told me of the Lord's directions for the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil to grow in the garden's center, and that humans will be disallowed from eating from it._

  
_ 'After thinking on what she said, I am not sure if I should be offended or not, given my job description. It's not my place to question, however...'_

Crowley snickered behind the rim of his glass. "Oh yes, that whole lot went over well." he commentated to no one, turning the page.

_'The moon and stars are turning out well. I could stare in awe at them for eternity, and how wonderful it is to have a perfect viewing spot.'_

"I could find you a better spot, I'm sure..." the demon grumbled, deciding to curb his drinking for a few moments. He was starting to feel sappy.

_'Azrael spoke to me again today, and I pointed out to him he'd gotten his wings quite messy after the day's work. Apparently stardust is mortifyingly sloppy stuff, gets everywhere. He didn't seem too bothered by it, and I admitted it makes him feel a touch more comforting and less oppressive._

  
_ 'My words thankfully didn't upset him, and instead he told me he hoped we would get the chance to run into one another on happy enough occasions after he is sent off to do his job._

  
_ 'I didn't ask what his job was. I did, however, get the feeling it would be a while before that happened.'_

Good to know the angel of death had always been a gloomy bastard. Not that he had any right to talk. Wonder if the old boy even bothered to recall this little exchange.

  
Glancing up the stairs again, Crowley was tempted to check in on his angel. He'd never actually seen Aziraphale sleep, after all. But then if he happened to wake him, Crowley wouldn't be able to finish his snooping.

  
He quickly drained his glass.

_'The sea and sky contain life now. One mischievous committee barrelled through their project ahead of schedule and put their bid in today instead of tomorrow, managing to convince Manakel that the platypus certainly could be integrated ahead of time because it lays eggs. He wasn't too keen, but God was amused by the head of committee's excitement at the prospect ("Just consider how long it will take to figure out this one!") and so the creature was allowed through.'_

Bloody amazing. Crowley cackled as he poured himself more wine.

_'Today was also the day Azrael said he was to start his tenure on earth. I followed him down to look around the garden again, and it's lovely. Apparently two Cherubium are going to be posted at the East and West gates, though for what reason I can't fathom.'_

The laughter stopped. Wouldn't Aziraphale know about his assignment? Then again, this was before the Fall, since it hadn't been brought up... Perhaps there was a change of roster. The timeline was a little foggy, since the 'days' of creation weren't quite days as they were known on earth.

  
Another turn of a page brought a genuine frown to Crowley's face.

_'I visited the garden again today, steering clear of God's greatest creation for the time being. I am still unsure of what to think of them. The angel of the Eastern gate smiled at me and I found myself smiling back. Thinking back, he was the head of that ridiculous committee, Aziraphale. I wasn't aware he was so high ranking, as he's much more genial than many other first sphere angels I have seen.'_

Thin fingers traced over the name written down. Was this not Aziraphale's journal after all? Evidently not, but then...

_'We spoke for perhaps hours. He told me of his duty to watch over humanity and explained to me the odd way he spelt his name. Apparently he simply didn't want his name to appear "too traditionally angelic" to the humans he was to walk amongst. I couldn't bear to tell him he hadn't fully succeeded._

  
_ 'I spotted that tree again and decided to finally bring up the issue with the highest authority. If I am to love mankind, and my duty is to "cure mankind's stupidity" (whatever that is supposed to mean in the end), then it would stand to reason knowledge would be my gift to them, right?'_

No...

_'Many others among the spheres have their issues to raise -- most of them a bit over-dramatic -- but surely if I ask God directly about this contradiction, something must come of it.'_

The rest of the page was blank. Crowley didn't want to turn it over, but he found himself doing so anyway. He needed to know for sure.

_'God has confided in me of my own contradictory place in the universe. It Is Planned. The humans will eat from the tree and be cast from the garden, believing with all their hearts that they have been forsaken. I will be the one to offer them that chance. Of the many angels tasked with curing stupidity, I have been chosen to present them with knowledge._

  
_ 'The sky has gone dark and the growing row between angels is starting to get noisy. I will see if I can seek another council with God.'_

As the words ran out, Crowley escaped to the second floor apartment.

Aziraphale stirred as he felt a weight slide against his hip, opening his eyes slowly. A large, dark umber snake with frantic looking eyes was attempting to slither up the cuff of his sleeve. "Crowley, darling," he groaned, "I cannot very well nap with you wriggling about, can I?"

  
Expecting a retort of some kind, he pouted when none came and sat upright, withdrawing the serpent from his hiding place and bundling the length of the creature into his lap. Crowley immediately tucked his head under a couple of coils, his tongue only just poking out from underneath them.

  
"I am not cross with you, dear."

  
The demon shook his scaly head. "That'sss... ngh..."

  
"Then what is it?"

  
Crowley hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully despite his mounting hysteria, but was soothed somewhat by the brush of a warm hand at the base of his skull. "Jussst disillusioned all over again, angel." he grumbled, poking his head out shyly. "I rifled through your heavenly affects and found a rather horrible read."

  
The angel paused as he tried to recall what the serpent might be referencing before his eyes widened in shock. "Oh Crowley, certainly you didn't..."

  
"It's my own blesssssed diary, angel -- I think I'd be entitled to read it!" Crowley hissed irritably. Coiling in on himself again, his face pressed against the fabric of Aziraphale's pyjama shirt as he wondered if perhaps he should locate some dark hole in some desert to mope in.

  
Another few moments of silence passed between them before Crowley's voice, muffled by fabric, wafted out once more, "Answerssss, angel... It's all I ever wanted... Day bloody one and I was already fighting to keep my mouth shut."

  
The warm hand returned, nudging his coils aside and palming Crowley's chin. His head was lifted up, a kiss pressed to his nose.

  
"You weren't wrong, my dear." Sputtering, Crowley glowered at the angel, but he kept going. "But the Lord wasn't either. In the end, everything went, well --"

  
"According to the Ineffable Plan, yeah?" the demon cut in, "You're a broken record, you know that?"

  
Aziraphale sighed, guiding the other's head to rest on his shoulder. "Well," he said after a moment, "Did you want to know anything else? I may have not been Kabniel, but I, well, kept my eyes open."

  
The silence returned again, accented only by the soft sound of Crowley winding his way across Aziraphale's shoulders, tucking his head under the angel's chin. He tentatively continued.

  
"I was at my post when the Fall happened. Only learnt of the whole ordeal afterward -- poor Gabriel looked like he'd been nearly on his last legs on his way to fetch me. After I was let in on what had happened, I had a sneaking suspicion the lovely angel I had met with the dark hair and eyes full of questions wouldn't be in Heaven upon my return.

  
"Honestly, it was mere serendipity that I came across his notes, though I've begun to doubt even that was up to chance," he trailed off at the end, smiling again softly as a forked tongue grazed the dimple of his cheek. "I didn't actually read them until after meeting you in Eden. After that, well, things began to fit together."

  
The weight on his shoulders shifted as sinewy scales were replaced by lanky arms, and Aziraphale hummed as the mattress dipped to accommodate the other body sitting beside him.

  
"Perhaps it is a bit cruel of me to find comfort in you being my fated adversary and ally." the angel murmured. "Ineffability has been awfully nasty on your end of things, but all in all I do hope it was... worth it? In the end, anyway."

  
He didn't receive an answer, only the demon scooting in closer and grumbling at him to make room. Yes, perhaps that was too cruel.

  
Tucking his head into Aziraphale's side, Crowley asked, "Please tell me Kabniel was at least an impressive sort of angel."

  
"Oh, indeed."

  
"You are a horrible liar."

  
The angel tutted indignantly. "It is not a lie! He was quite radiant, with lovely black curls." he replied, his hand ghosting through the other's hair. "But I only knew him for such a short time, and all the friendly acquaintances I'd met in Heaven hardly hold a candle to the time I've had on earth," With you.

  
"I should hope I'm an improvement over a choir of alter boys." Crowley grunted, but the smirk on his face gave away his lightening mood.

  
Aziraphale smiled again. "I certainly wouldn't have it any other way." Scooching back under the duvet, he yawned performatively. "Nap with me, dear?"

  
"Anytime, angel."

**Author's Note:**

> (tapdances off-stage)
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr (eyreyereye) or twitter (@reyechan) and tell me about your headcanons please I'm so lonely.


End file.
